


You Run The Company, Fuck Like A Kennedy

by trashcangimmick



Series: Oh My Poison [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, Fisting, Hostage Situations, It's Fun In The Gutter, Kidnapping, Light daddy kink, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega/Omega, Omegaverse, Talking Like Adults About Feelings And Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Rhys gets taken hostage during a gun deal gone wrong. Jack swoops in to save him. But of course, not before Rhys runs out of suppressants and accidentally goes into heat.





	1. Kiss Me You Animal

**Author's Note:**

> Reading the previous story isn't strictly necessary. All you're missing is that Rhys absolutely does not want to go into heat ever, and whoops. WHOOPS. Jack makes a token effort towards not being awful, but y'know. This is garbage and I'm not sorry. You know what you're signing up for.

Maybe it speaks more to a general state of mental unwellness than anything else, but Rhys actually feels sorry for his would-be kidnappers.

 

They’re some ragtag band of scavengers, obviously in way over their head here. It was supposed to be a standard bulk gun transaction. Sometimes arms deals go south. Instead of paying the negotiated amount of Eridium bars and going on their merry way, these idiots decided to shoot the bodyguards and take Rhys as a hostage. Perhaps they thought he would be a good bargaining chip with Mr. Torgue. Though what exactly their game plan was after that, is anyone’s guess.

 

They don’t seem to understand the unholy hell that’s going to rain down when news gets back to Jack. It’s only been about a day so far. They still have time to save themselves. Which Rhys keeps helpfully reminding them.

 

“Listen. I understand your position perfectly. You want to keep the guns and not pay for them. You are far from the first people to adopt that philosophy. What I’m saying, is that I don’t really care what you do with the guns. Nor do I care about the money. But you really should consider letting me go. Things are going to get very bad if Handsome Jack has to come looking for me.”

 

He’s dropped the name a few times, but clearly they don’t believe him. The leader–the one in the floppy cowboy hat, scoffs and kicks some dust into Rhys’ face.

 

“Uh huh. The CEO of Hyperion is gonna come after some low-level Torgue salesman. That totally tracks.”

 

“If you’d let me have my ECHO pad, I could call him for you. He would confirm the fact that I am his favorite fuck toy.” Or, y’know, live-in boyfriend of almost a year. Somehow, Rhys feels more embarrassed throwing that particular tidbit around than pretending like he’s just a floozy of the week.

 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” The man crouches down to look Rhys in the eyes. “Why would I let you contact anybody and give away our location? Besides. This whole Jack thing is ridiculous. Everybody knows Handsome Jack is an Omega. A sweet little treat like you probably would have had more luck convincing me you were banging someone higher up at Torgue.”

 

“Fun fact: did you know that queer people exist?”

 

“Kurt. Why don’t you get the duct tape out again? I think our friend here is ready for some quiet time.”

 

One of the other scavengers steps forward with a roll of tape. Rhys sighs. Nobody can say he didn’t try to warn them.

 

***

 

It’s hard to tell exactly how much time is passing. They’re holed up in a cave somewhere in the Dust. Probably quite a distance from the original deal location. They shoved Rhys into a car and drove off pretty quick after the initial altercation.

 

If Rhys had to guess, he’d say he’s been here around three days? Maybe two and a half? The only woman in the band of miscreants has been kind enough to give him food and water. She’s also the only Alpha of the group. Which makes her interest in him a little less endearing. She’s taken it upon herself to sit near him and watch his every move.

 

She is very tall. Even taller than Rhys. She isn’t bulky, but there’s definitely a lithe musculature to her. She looks like she could rip Rhys in half if she felt like it. So Rhys has been playing nice. Smiling and batting his eyelashes, hoping he comes off as shy instead of slutty.

 

Nobody has made any video calls within earshot, but Rhys gathers his captors have been unsuccessfully trying to negotiate a randsome. He’s not surprised that Mr. Torgue doesn’t want to pay for his release. Why would he when there are certain narcissistic megalomaniacs with a lot more motivation to track him down and rescue him?

 

Still. Rhys is getting a little worried. He hasn’t been able to take his suppressants in however many days he’s been here. His natural scent has gotten a hell of a lot stronger, which, again, is probably why the Alpha is sticking so close by him. The half life of the suppressants is about five days. He doesn’t really want to think about what would happen if they leave his system entirely.

 

Mr. Cowboy Hat also recently floated the idea of selling Rhys into sex slavery if they can’t get Torgue to play ball. If he was a Beta, they definitely would have killed him already. But an unbonded Omega is a valuable asset on the black market. On the one hand, it’s comforting that he’s unlikely to be murdered. On the other hand…

 

Hopefully Jack hurries up and it won’t be an issue. If Jack is even coming. He has to be. Sure, he’s not one to express a whole lot of emotions, but he cares about Rhys on some level, right? Jack gets bored of people easily. There must be a reason Rhys is still around. As long as that reason isn’t _convenience_ everything is going to be fine.

 

***

 

Rhys isn’t feeling well. He would rather believe he’s getting sick. He wants to write off the nausea. The feverish feeling. The fact that he’s sweating like he just ran a marathon.

 

He has to wonder if being in close proximity to an Alpha is bringing this mess on faster.

 

She’s given up any pretense of professionalism. Last night she slept curled around him. Nobody else in her party seems to care. There’s been some laughing and eye rolling. But that’s it.

 

Even now that they’re awake, she is sitting right beside him. Pressing up against him. Occasionally scenting him. It’s not helping the general feeling that Rhys needs to throw up.

 

“What were they doing sending you on a deal so close to your heat?” Her voice is deep and rough as sandpaper.

 

“I… I wasn’t exactly due for one.” Rhys can’t keep the panic out of his voice. “I was on suppressants.”

 

“Well, there’s no need to worry. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

 

“What I really need are my suppressants—“

 

“Shhh. You’re going to start very soon. I doubt they’d even work at this point.”

 

“Are you a doctor?” Rhys can’t help but snap a little.

 

She laughs? Not offended. Hell. He could probably say anything right now and she’s be too drunk on hormones to care.

 

Well. Things could be worse. She at least hasn’t said anything too awful yet. Under normal circumstances, she seems like she might be a nice person. Maybe she’ll be gentle. Maybe she’ll just fuck him without any of the bonding or claiming nonsense.

 

God. He feels like crying.

 

“Please let me go,” Rhys knows he sounds pathetic. Maybe, just maybe he smells good enough that she’ll listen to him.

 

“You don’t really want that. We’re deep in bandit territory right now. If I send you out there, smelling like you do, you’ll get mobbed by psychos within minutes.”

 

She’s right. Rhys hates that she’s right. He actually is crying now. He can’t help it. She puts an arm around his shoulders. Gently strokes his hair. It feels good, and comforting, and safe, and that just makes him cry harder.

 

He’s so disoriented, he has to wonder for a moment if the ground is actually shaking or if it’s him.

 

But then there’s a very large _boom_ and a lot of screaming, followed by gunfire and robotic voices.

 

_Jack._

 

Rhys scrambles away from the Alpha as fast as he can with both his hands and feet tied together. He knows enough about Jack’s military operations at this point to take cover whenever available. He manages to wedge himself behind a boulder as an explosion blows a hole in the side of the cave, letting in dust, light, and a ton of smoke.

 

The scavengers are still trying to fight, but quickly losing from the sound of it. Five scavengers aren’t much match for an army of Hyperion Loaders. Corrosive guns only do so much.

 

“You rat bastard motherfuckers better hope you die before I can get my hands on you.” Jack’s screams filter in from outside. “I just built some brand new interrogation rooms back on Helios, and you’d better believe I’d take my time stripping the flesh off your sorry skeletons.”

 

Rhys almost wants to say _I told you so._ But it’s a moot point. He also doesn’t want to give away his position, in case any of the scavengers decide to grab him and put a gun to his head so they can demand a ceasefire.

 

He can’t see very well from his hiding place. But he can hear it when the shooting stops. He crawls out into the daylight. His eyes hurt. It’s so bright.

 

There’s a pair of warm, familiar hands on him, pulling him upright. Rhys slumps forward and buries his face in Jack’s chest. Rhys is shaking. He feels like one big frayed nerve. Jack hugs him tight. Kissing him on the top of the head and muttering platitudes.

 

The aftermath is a blur. Rhys refuses to let go of his grip on Jack’s shirt. Somehow, they get back to the ship. Wilhelm takes the Pilot seat. Jack leads Rhys to the back quarters.

 

“Jesus, babe. You smell like a fertility clinic.”

 

They’re in the bathroom. Rhys clinging to Jack’s wrist like it’s a life jacket. Jack edges them towards the shower, turning on the water and letting it warm up.

 

“You’re also filthy and stink of horny Alpha. None of those bastards touched you, right? I’ll go back and desecrate some corpses if I need to.”

 

“No. They didn’t.”

 

“Good.”

 

Jack undresses Rhys with careful, steady motions. Even takes the bionic arm off. It’s been dead for days, anyway. Jack sets it on the counter before pushing Rhys towards the shower.

 

“Come on, pumpkin. I know you can do it. If I get in there with you, I am _gonna_ bang you and I’m not sure that’s something you’d be super stoked about when your brain starts working again.”

 

Jack starts to back away, towards the door. Rhys whines and grabs his hand. Without the imminent threat of danger, the adrenaline is draining out of him. Apparently, that was the only thing keeping him halfway coherent. He just wants to fall to the ground and lie there forever. Above all else he can’t cope with the idea of being alone. If Jack leaves, he’s going to die. He’s sure of it.

 

“OK, OK um… I’ll stay in here. With my clothes on. Yeah. Sure. We’ve got this.”

 

Under normal circumstances, Rhys would be amused at seeing Jack get flustered. Right now, he barely has the focus required to stay standing. He just lets Jack push him under the stream of warm water. The dust and grime slowly wash away and swirl down the drain. He doesn’t let go of Jack. Which means he probably doesn’t get entirely clean. But at a certain point, Jack turns the water off, so it must be good enough.

 

Jack dries him with a very soft towel. Muttering about irony and _some thank you this is_. Rhys isn’t really paying attention. He is much too hot all over and his brain is full of fog. He notices that they’re walking. Then he’s being coaxed into a soft bed.

 

Oh yes. This is what he needed. Silky blankets and pillows.

 

“There we go, kid. Get some rest.”

 

Jack’s voice gets farther away. That is unacceptable. Rhys lets out a high pitched, unhappy noise. When it doesn’t instantly have the desired effect, he starts to cry. And that works just fine. Jack is lying down beside him, shushing him. Holding him close.

 

Rhys purrs. Finally able to relax. He’s been so scared and stressed out. He falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

 

***

 

It feels like Rhys is in an oven. He squirms. Trying to find a comfortable position. There isn’t one. No part of the bed is cold enough. He doesn’t have the energy to move onto the floor.

 

“Hey, cupcake. You awake?”

 

Rhys groans.

 

“I’ve got your medication here. You wanna take it? I talked to the doctor this morning. She said it probably wouldn’t stop things in their tracks, but might at least shave a couple days off.”

 

Rhys opens one eye. Jack is standing over him, holding a pill and a glass of water. He reaches out half-heartedly before letting his arm fall back to the mattress. He’s too tired.

 

“Wow.” Jack laughs. “What an impressive display of effort.”

 

But he helps Rhys sit up anyway. Puts the pill in his mouth and holds the glass up. Rhys drinks all the water. It’s not doing anything to cool him down. Jack puts the empty glass down. He’s so close. Sitting there on the edge of the bed.

 

Rhys can’t help himself. He tips forward just enough to press their lips together. It’s like a hit of top shelf energy concentrate. He suddenly has the will to move again, because it means crawling into Jack’s lap. The uncomfortable warmth is evaporating into a pleasant tingling. Rhys is wet. Aching. He knows exactly what would make him feel better.

 

“Rhys. Rhysie. We—god you’re doing this just to torture me aren’t you? If we bone, you’re gonna be mad about it later. I promise you are.”

 

“Don’t care,” Rhys murmurs, pawing at the zipper of Jack’s pants. “Want you.”

 

“You made me sign a goddamned contract saying I am not allowed to touch you in this specific situation. I really don’t want to deal with you throwing a tantrum over this. You’re incredibly unpleasant when you decide to get bitchy.”

 

“I need you. It hurts,” Rhys pouts.

 

“I am just as upset about this situation as you are, babe.”

 

“Please, _Daddy.”_ It’s playing dirty and Rhys doesn’t care. It works.

 

Jack sucks in a few breaths, trying to collect himself. He’s wild eyed, flushed under his mask. He smells so good. Rhys dips down to nip at the base of Jack’s neck. Jack lets it happen for a minute before he lifts Rhys up and throws him down on his back

 

“OK. Shit—OK. Here’s what we’re gonna do about this…”

 

Jack reaches for the drawer on his nightstand. He pulls out a very large vibrator. One with a knot. Rhys spreads his legs in anticipation.

 

“Eager much?” Jack raises an eyebrow.

 

Rhys can’t hope to think of a response as Jack pushes the tip of the toy into him. When the vibration starts up, the world melts into a technicolor blur of pleasure. Rhys rolls his hips. Moans and writhes. It’s too much. But it feels amazing. Being stretched, and full, and leaking slick. He can feel the silicone knot pressing against him.

 

 _“Daddy, please, please, please. Knot me.”_ Usually the higher pitched voice is an affectation. Something Rhys puts on when they play games. But there’s nothing fabricated about his desperation and helplessness in this moment. His whole world has narrowed to a single focal point. The place where that knot is edging against his pussy. He needs it like breathing.

 

Sometimes, Jack can be a merciful tyrant. He shoves the toy forward, past the scant resistance Rhys’ body has to offer. Rhys can feel himself locking down around it. Pulsing. Gushing. He’s probably screaming.

 

The vibrations stop. Rhys is floating somewhere above himself. High and happy. It reminds him of those ultra-strength painkillers he got after his implant surgery. Everything is fuzzy. His whole body is singing with endorphins.

 

“Well. I don’t know why I thought that would help. Or well… looks like it helped you. But I am… out of willpower, quite frankly. Sorry, kiddo. I tried.”

 

There’s a rustling of clothes falling to the floor. Then a pleasant weight settles on top of Rhys. Jack kisses him. Deep and hungry. It feels so good. Every drag of skin against skin is a new height of pleasure. Rhys does groan at the sudden empty feeling when Jack pulls the toy out. But then Jack replaces it with something better.

 

“Fuck, baby.” Jack already sounds wrecked. He rolls his hips. Gliding in and out of Rhys so perfectly.

 

Rhys can feel himself clenching. Tightening around Jack’s cock. He feels like an ocean. Waves of lust cresting and crashing through him. He’s already close again.

 

“Yeah. Gonna fucking knot you so good. Keep you full of my cock for days.”

 

 _“Yes,”_ Rhys breathes. _“Yes please, give it to me.”_

 

Jack slips four fingers in alongside his cock. Rhys locks down on him immediately. The tension release should make it better. But somehow, it’s worse. He needs more. He’s clutching at Jack’s shoulder, begging him not to stop.

 

Of course, Jack keeps going. Even after he shudders and groans through his first orgasm. It makes him smell even better. Rhys can’t help licking his neck. Sucking on it. Biting. Jack always fucks him so good. But when Rhys pokes at the Daddy stuff, it makes things different. Jack is gentler. Almost tender, instead of just pounding into Rhys as fast and hard as he can. Rhys likes it both ways. Right now though, he needs to be held close, and kissed, and told he’s pretty. Jack seems to understand.

 

“So perfect for me, sweetheart. My beautiful little princess.” Jack kisses Rhys on the forehead. “I’m gonna make everything better, don’t you worry.”

 

***

 

Jack must go into a sympathetic heat after the third or fourth round. He’s feverish to the touch. Eyes unfocused. Gushing slick. Jack usually isn’t all that interested in getting fucked. But he moans when Rhys slips a finger in him.

 

They’re both lying on their sides. Sticky and filthy. Always touching. Trying to press together in every way possible. It’s never enough.

 

Rhys is gentle at first. Moves slowly. Just the one finger. Then two. Jack is so tight. Blood hot and silky. He rocks his hips, pushing back against Rhys’ fingers. It’s a little bit of an awkward angle. Rhys sits up, settles between Jack’s spread legs.

 

Jack’s eyes are closed. His lips parted in a gasp. It’s interesting—having him just lie there. Usually Jack is bossy. He paws, and grabs, and takes. Even if Rhys is on top, Jack’s hands are on his hips, trying to control the pace. Right now, though, he’s completely relaxed. Letting Rhys do whatever he wants.

 

So Rhys adds another finger. Even works his way up to tucking his thumb in. Jack is so wet. Easy to stretch. Keeps mumbling various iterations of _jesus, fuck, shit, oh my god._ But doesn’t say slow down. So Rhys manages to get his knuckles into Jack’s pussy after about twenty minutes. Almost there. Just one final push.

 

“Are you ready?” Rhys sounds breathless. Elated. He really does love doing this. The power and vulnerability of it is intoxicating.

 

“Ready for what?” Jack is slurring his words a little bit. “Is that not your entire hand?”

 

“Not quite.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“We don’t have to…”

 

“Just do it.”

 

Rhys doesn’t need to be told twice. He carefully curls his fingers into a fist. Jack spasms around him. Clenching so tight it hurts a little. Jack groans. Shivering. Gushing around Rhys’ wrist.

 

It doesn’t really stop. Maybe it tapers off a little. But then Rhys starts to move his hand. Just small motions. Slow, shallow thrusts. Jack’s back arches. His cock twitches. He’s swearing. There’s a sizeable puddle on the sheets.

 

Rhys has never seen Jack come just from penetration. It’s kind of mesmerizing. The way his whole body jerks. He can’t seem to catch his breath. He’s still squeezing down around Rhys’ fist.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, stop moving. I’m gonna die.”

 

Rhys stills his hand. Jack still spends at least another thirty seconds trembling through the aftershocks. Rhys lets him rest for a little bit before slowly uncurling his hand and withdrawing it.

 

Of course, Rhys is dripping wet again. He reaches for the vibrator and lies next to Jack as he starts to fuck himself. He comes twice before Jack recovers enough to participate. Even then he just lazily rubs Rhys’ cock.

 

Rhys turns off the toy, but leaves it in because it feels good to be full.

 

“Shit, Rhysie.” Jack sounds like he just chainsmoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “That was something else.”

 

“Mmm.” Rhys curls closer, resting his head on Jack’s chest.

 

He listens to Jack’s heartbeat for a long time. It might be the most soothing noise he’s ever heard.


	2. Give Us More Detonation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to talk about feelings like adults!! FUN STUFF!!

They must get back to Helios at some point. Because Meg appears with a cart of food and hydration packs. She leaves it right next to the bed. They don’t exactly untangle from each other. But they do manage to eat a little. Guzzle down the electrolyte mixture to replace some of the fluids they’ve lost. 

 

Rhys is sitting in Jack’s lap. Or rather, on his cock, in a cuddly reverse-cowgirl. They aren’t actively fucking. But it still feels nice. Rhys can just sit there and purr while Jack feeds him grapes.

 

“Now do you see why I wanted to do this?” Jack drags his thumb across Rhys’ lip. “A week of nothing but awesome sex and being basically drunk on hormones?”

 

Rhys lets his head fall back and rest on Jack’s shoulder. Some deep-down part of him prickles at the implication. There’s a vague echo of a rational thought.  _ I’m upset about this.  _ He’s in no place to have that conversation right now. He must be pouting, though. Jack notices right away.

 

“Aww, it’s OK, honey. We don’t have to talk. Just enjoy it.”

 

Jack dips his hand down, rubs his fingers across Rhys’ cock. It’s a distracting jolt of pleasure. Enough to make Rhys gasp and squirm. He’s too tired to move much. But he does start to rock down on Jack’s cock. Working it deeper. Possibly the deepest it’s been so far. The tip of it is teasing at something delicious.

 

“You look so sexy, bouncing on Daddy’s lap.” Jack moves his fingers a little faster. “Fuck, baby. I love it when you take what you want.”

 

Rhys whimpers. He’s at the point of overstimulation where it’s starting to take longer for him to orgasm. He needs more breaks between rounds. The muscle exhaustion has crept in. 

 

It’s going to be over soon. He can sense it. 

 

***

 

Rhys wakes up groggy, stiff and sore. It takes a few minutes for him to even register where he is. A filthy bed, in the back cabin of Jack’s personal ship. Jack is still asleep next to him. The room reeks of sex. The sheets, and possibly the mattress, are ruined. 

 

It’s a lot to take in.

 

Rhys expects to feel a wave of boiling hot anger. Disappointment. Affronted, righteousness. He should be pissed enough right now to shove Jack onto the floor, storm out, and go stay at Yvette’s for a few days. Maybe even a few weeks. He should probably be experiencing the desire to break up with Jack right now and never speak to him again.

 

Instead, there’s just a strange emptiness. He’s tired. He just wants to curl into a ball and sleep for a year.

 

He vaguely recalls this feeling. He’s blocked out so much about his first heat. But with everything raw and fresh in his mind, he remembers feeling like he got run over by a train after the fact. Days of lingering malaise. He’s heard other Omegas talk about the hangover. He knows it’s a Thing.

 

He manages to get himself up and partially dressed. He exits the ship, makes his way to the private elevator, and rides up to his apartment. Or well,  _ Jack’s _ penthouse where he also happens to live. He takes a shower. Eats three of the pastries that Meg apparently had the foresight to leave for him. Then he goes to bed, burrows under the covers, and  _ wallows _ in the utter hopeless depression he is currently experiencing.

 

He must fall asleep eventually. He only wakes up when somebody climbs under the covers right next to him. He squirms away, even though body heat would feel nice. 

 

“Hey, Kiddo…” Jack sounds raspy, and just as tired as Rhys feels. “You doing OK?”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“All righty then.” 

 

Jack, at the very least, stays on his side of the bed. 

 

***

 

Rhys works remotely for the most part, so he doesn’t have to call off. He’s earned the right, through repeated demonstrations that he is not going to leak any business secrets to Jack. He and Jack don’t discuss work at all. A lot of people still don’t trust him, but Mr. Torgue does. So Rhys is allowed to run his accounts from Helios, and nobody fucks with him. 

 

It feels good to sit at his desk and keep busy. He doesn’t make any video calls, because he looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes. Bruises all over his neck. But there’s always plenty of bullshit to do. Leads to track down. Contracts to comb through. 

 

Rhys stays in his office with the door closed all day. Meg drops off his lunch. Jack has the good sense to leave him alone. 

 

Yvette has been messaging him for the last few days, demanding to know why he fell off the radar for two whole weeks. He tries to respond in neutral, simple terms. 

 

**Deal went bad. I was held hostage for a while. I’m exhausted. Talk soon.**

 

Obviously, avoiding the big issue. The whole,  _ I went into heat and so did Jack _ piece. Yvette is already very much anti-Jack and urges Rhys to break up with him at least twice a month. Rhys doesn’t need to tell her what happened to know what she’d say. She’d be livid. She might even catch a ride out to Helios and show up at their doorstep to personally kick Jack’s ass. 

 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Last Christmas, Rhys and Jack got into a fight about whether or not they were going to visit Rhys’ mother. Rhys ended up going alone. Jack felt betrayed. As a result, he had a foursome in their shared bed. Which was totally against the rules. He agreed not to bring anyone back to their apartment when Rhys moved in. So Rhys invited Yvette to the New Years party on Helios, and she ended up punching Jack in the face after everyone had a few too many drinks.

 

He doesn’t need that right now. It’s nice to know he has someone in his corner, but the current situation requires steady hands and a cool temper. This is not in the same category as Jack acting out or having petty revenge sex because he doesn’t know how to express his emotions.

 

Rhys doesn’t know what category to put this in. 

 

At around dinner time, he’s sends Jack a message. 

 

**Meeting in the living room at 19:00. Do not drink or consume any other intoxicants. I need your full attention.**

 

**10-4, you got it boss ;)**

 

Rhys snorts. Even when he’s mad at Jack, he still can’t help but find the bastard weirdly charming. It's probably half the reason they’re still together. Rhys has never met anyone else who could make him laugh when he feels like crying. 

 

***

 

Jack is waiting on the couch at 18:45, dressed down to his t-shirt and jeans. Rhys is still in a suit. That’s how he feels most comfortable for conversations like this. He sits down in the wingback armchair across the coffee table from Jack. It feels good to at least have that small physical barrier. 

 

“Do you understand why I’m upset?” Rhys keeps a level voice. Looks Jack right in the eyes. He has to treat this like a business negotiation. That’s the only way he’s going to stay in control. 

 

“I mean—I told you that you were gonna be. That didn’t stop you from climbing all over me—“

 

“Jack.”

 

“Rhys?”

 

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to blame me for things I did under the influence of heat. I will try to extend you the same courtesy.”

 

“OK… does that mean you  _ aren’t  _ pissed at me?”

 

“I am upset at the situation. I am upset by the circumstances that lead to it. I can also acknowledge that you at least attempted to do the right thing, and there were aspects of what happened that you could not control.”

 

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming here.”

 

“You know the only other experience with heat I’ve had was outright sexual assault. What happened between us was dubious at best. I do not feel I had an actual choice about it. I am unclear on whether or not you were in a position to make a choice either. I have made my lack of desire to share a heat abundantly clear in the past. If you actually could have walked away and just decided not to… well, that makes me feel very disappointed.”

 

Jack takes several deep breaths. Rhys can almost see him counting to thirty in his head. It’s a practice that’s helped his rage outbursts a little. Not a ton, but you know, it’s a work in progress. 

 

“This feels like a trap.” Jack finally blurts out. “You were gonna hate me either way! You were in pain, and begging me to do something about it. Sorry for wanting to help.”

 

“Jack.”

 

“I know. I know it was the heat talking, and you are not the heat. But is it really so awful I wanted to take care of you and be there for you? Like, you enjoyed yourself right? It didn’t seem like you were having a bad time. I would have stopped if you asked me to.”

 

Now it’s Rhys’ turn to stay silent and try to collect himself. It might be a mistake, because silence means room for Jack to keep digging himself into a hole. 

 

“I mean, I know heat is a hang up for you. But like, come on Rhysie. How many years has it been? Ten? Are you just gonna let that one experience ruin your life forever? We’ve all had fucked up shit happen to us. My grandma used to hit me with a buzz axe and my piece of shit uncle was putting his hands down my pants during the holidays since I was like seven. I killed them both! And I’m pretty well adjusted all things considered.”

 

“You think you’re well adjusted.”

 

“I run the biggest company in the galaxy, I’d say I’m doing pretty damn well for myself.”

 

“Of course. Your huge power complex and desperate need to control everyone around you has nothing to do with your childhood trauma.” 

 

Jack’s mouth becomes a very thin line. Rhys knows Jack doesn’t like having weaknesses pointed out. Who does? But he has to be careful. Or this whole thing is gonna get re-framed into a fight about who’s had more hard knocks, and what sort of behavior it might justify. 

 

“Look.” Rhys sighs. “I have already expressed that I am uncomfortable with what happened, and I think you understand why. Please explain back to me why you think we’re having this discussion.”

 

“You’re mad because you feel like I took advantage of you. Or like I didn’t try hard enough to honor regular Rhys’ wishes.”

 

“And you don’t think that it’s fair for me to be mad at you for trying to help. You don’t see what harm you actually caused. Is that correct?”

 

“Spot on, kiddo.”

 

“OK. If we both understand each other’s positions, I don’t think further discussion of those issues is productive. Now we just need to figure out what to do moving forward. I could reiterate my desire to never share a heat again, but my confidence in you listening to that is currently very shaky. I will continue to take suppressants, and maybe start carrying around an extra supply on my person. I just…” Rhys tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I don’t know if I can continue to live here with you.”

 

“What?” Jack is on his feet before Rhys can blink. He skirts the table. Kneels down next to Rhys’ chair, taking hold of his hand. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

 

“Did you stay because you wanted to help me or did you stay because it’s what  _ you _ wanted?” Rhys can feel his eyes burning. The tears welling up. “I’ve been very up front about all the conditions of this relationship, and you don’t seem to care about any of them. I just—I know it’s stupid to think you’ll ever change. I just don’t know what I’m still doing here.”

 

“It’ll never happen again.” Jack crowds closer. “Baby, I promise. I fucked up. I’m sorry. You know I never say that. But I mean it. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

 

They’re just words. Jack’s word doesn’t count for shit. But feelings rarely obey the rules of logic. It’s easy to let Jack wrap him in a hug. Hold him close. 

 

“I’d fall apart without you here, Rhysie.” Jack murmurs. “I was so freaked out when I heard those idiots kidnapped you. I can’t imagine losing you. I’d probably carpet bomb the entire surface of Pandora if anyone ever tried to take you away.”

 

It’s not an  _ I love you.  _ It's probably as close as Jack gets. Rhys is tired of settling for what Jack is comfortable with. 

 

“Do you love me?” Rhys squirms out of Jack’s grip. Tying to sniff back the tears. 

 

“What sort of question is that?”

 

“A yes or no question, usually.”

 

“Shit, cupcake. It’s not exactly the time for sarcasm.” Jack looks visibly uncomfortable. More so than he has all night. If Rhys has found a chink in the armor, he’s going in for the kill. 

 

“Do you even care about me, Jack? It’s easy to say you were worried, but while I was sitting in that cave, I wondered if you’d come for me at all. We’ve been dating for two years. We live together. At some point, you’re going to have to verbalize your feelings.”

 

“What do you mean? How could you ever think I wouldn’t come looking for you? You’re arguably the second most important person in the universe. After me, of course.”

 

“So say it.”

 

“Does it really count if I say it under duress?”

 

“Say it, motherfucker. Or I am walking out the door.”

 

“I… I love you.” Jack actually sounds pained. He even winces a little. 

 

“Good. Now say it like you mean it.”

 

“You’re killing me here, kid. This isn’t really my style.”

 

“You somehow convinced two people to marry you, I refuse to believe you didn’t say it to them.”

 

“I didn’t.” Jack isn’t smiling. If he’s joking it’s a perfect deadpan. 

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

“Hand to god, cupcake. You are the first person who has ever demanded I say…  _ that _ .”

 

“Wow. Where did you even find these people?”

 

“Conferences. Business soirees.” Jack smiles a little. “Kinda like I found you. Just neither of them were quite so pushy.”

 

“You’re calling me pushy? You stalked me for three months!”

 

“Well, it worked.”

 

“I hate you.” Just like Rhys hates how fast all the tension and anger is slipping away. He feels light and bubbly as Jack picks him up and carries him off to bed. 

 

Rhys is still sore. But he gets plenty wet as Jack eats him out. After a couple of orgasms, Jack slides into him easy. 

 

He’s not expecting it. The half-whisper against his neck while Jack thrusts into him lazily. 

 

_ “I love you, baby.” _

 

Rhys moans. Pulls Jack closer. Inhales the beautiful, comforting scent of him. Jack smells like home. Like the rest of his life. He’s probably crazy, or a lot more suicidal than he wants to admit, but he’s pretty much planning to stick by Jack, for better or worse, until the inevitable bitter end. He knew it the second Jack barged into his life. Not exactly love at first sight. Just, a feeling that they were gonna be together, inextricable and codependent ever after. 

 

Jack speeds up. Rhys touches himself. It’s a well-rehearsed choreography that ends with them both shaking apart. Consumed in the pleasures of the flesh.

 

They stay tangled up in each other. Tired and sticky. Lying on top of the comforter as evening wears into night. 

 

“Well?” Jack traces his hand down Rhys’s chest, drawing absent minded patterns. 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you gonna say it back or just leave a guy hanging?”

 

Rhys can’t keep from deteriorating into a fit of giggles. After everything else that’s happened, Jack’s throbbing insecurity seems ridiculous. But then again, Jack is a ridiculous man. Rhys should probably let him stew a little. When he rolls over so they’re face to face, Jack is wearing an expression of wounded annoyance. 

 

So Rhys gives him a peck on the nose. Presses up against him. 

 

“I love you. Even though you’re the biggest douchebag in the galaxy.”

 

“Frankly, that’s more a comment about your shortcomings than mine.”

 

Rhys shuts him up with an actual kiss.

 

Things are far from perfect. Hell. It’s a perpetual shitshow. But Rhys is just screwed up enough to like it that way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Na Na Na](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zm8xIo_2Aok).
> 
> Maybe I'll post a proposal fic? Maybe I'll lie down on the floor and scream into a pillow.


End file.
